


Reapers amongst each other

by numbika



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Star Wars - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bars and Pubs, Comedy, Crossover, Death being social, Discworld References, Friendship, Funny, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 21:45:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13820043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/numbika/pseuds/numbika
Summary: Everybody needs a quiet night every once in a while. A few drinks and a one or two games with your friends on your local pub, while complaining about your work. Why would anthropomorphic personifications would be different?





	Reapers amongst each other

There is a small pocket of space, a place so remote and far away that even the greatest minds cant bear to fathom. So hidden and desolate that no magical power, no wonder of technology could ever reach. This space lies firmly within the domain of death. Not Death with a capital D, not even DEATH with hundred-meter-tall gilded obsidian letters, but “ Death" were the curvature of the symbols were made from light-year long strands of stardust from a billion dead suns slowly spiralling into countless black holes. The other name of the owner of this particular real estate was Azreal, the death of the multiverse. On its land which in all sense but metaphorical, never existed, stood a small pub and an even smaller stable. The two building was black as the darkest corner of the universe, but they were also colourful. They were every shade of pitch black, certain beings can pick up the subtle difference. Aside from its colour, the pub was about as interesting from the outside as butter on bread. It had tiled roof, two floors with two windows, and a small porch. Above the void coloured wooden door, slowly swung a sign creaking in the non-existent wind. It was a nature of old alehouses and pubs, not to mention signs to do so and this one is made to be no exception. The wooden slab depicted a skeletal figure, slowly cutting down bushels of wheat with an oversized scythe. The stalks of wheat were the only thing that wasn’t coloured the darkest black, a faded golden foil covered the carved surface. The name under the picture spelled as “ The Rusty Scythe". 

Inside the pub was much larger than anyone from the outside could have guessed. There was a bar, stretching more than a light year into the horizon. Behind it were never ending rows of spirits, by this I mean the alcohol. The bar had a strict policy of not serving to customers who were currently on the job. Aside from the bar the only other furniture were about a dozen circular tables with chair around them. I say it was a dozen, but every time one of the patrons were in need of a new one, it was there only a couple of steps away completely empty. The other particular thing about the tables and their accompanying chairs were that they were always just a couple of steps away from the bar and the entrance. No matter how many patrons were currently seated at any given time, or where in the pub were the actual table situated from an outside perspective. Inside the building a cavalcade of figures filled the bar stools, tables and chairs. Most of them were of a hooded skeletal persuasion, but even those were all subtly different. Beside them, there were a wide variety of shapes and sizes, the only common thing about them was that they worked on the same line of job. From the crowned scythed skeletons, trough the human like figures in black kimono and black winged angels, into the horse sized scarab beetle in one of the corners, they were all worked in the soul transportation business. Nobody knows exactly why Azreal decided to build this pub for all the different deaths to gather, relax and share their experiences, but rumours has it that it was the influence from a certain employee. If the word on the astral plane is true, this particular Death managed to acquire some humanity. Normally this alone would be enough to get itself fired, but somehow, he convinced the big guy that he is still capable of doing his job, and even better than before. Apparently, he wasn’t lying, he managed to stop at least two known attempts from the Auditors to disrupt the natural order -Or from their perspective, dis-order. -of things by stopping every chaos in the universe. Azrael although an eternal and ancient being, was quick to adapt the new idea: A little bit of humanity could help an anthropomorphic personifications job, if its not taken too far. That’s why the pub was created, here Deaths can safely explore the experience of drinking alcohol, and having friends, without the fear that they will be exploited by mortals for their lack of knowledge. The establishment was a brand-new idea of Azrael, which of course meant that it was always there from time immemorial, as it was the nature of things when such beings were involved. 

Right now the Death who was ultimately responsible for its creation, the Death of the Discworld, sat around an empty table, slowly drumming on it with its bony fingers. In front of him an unopened deck of cards, designed for playing Cripple Mr. Onion, sat in silence upon the old black wood. After an indeterminate amount of time, the noise of some vehicle could be heard from the outside of the pub. The sound was similar to the one made by a thrown knife, only continuous and humming. It died down and after a while the pubs door swung open, and another Death walked in. It wore a black hood all right, but the design of it was subtly different. They opened in the middle revealing an even darker undershirt, and a metallic weapon belt under it. On the belt swung a small cylinder. It was made from silver, covered in intricate carvings, depicting the skulls of countless different creatures. Under the newcomer’s hood were only slowly swirling darkness instead of bleached bone like most of its counterparts had. The figure slowly approached Deaths desk and threw himself into the chair with an air of wild abandon. When it spoke, the voice was like the klaxon noise indicating a reactor breach, like the slipping of oxygen into vacuum, and like the sound of swooping blaster fire at the same time.  
"GOOD…WHATEVER WE HAVE HERE, DEATH. “For a being with its own personal time, in a place where time was practically non-existent, greetings where you had to specify the portion of day you are currently in, were pretty hard to pull off. Still looks like this death gave it a try.   
"GREETINGS. "From his own side, the Death of the Discworld gave up using them when not talking to mortals a long time ago. His voice was like the icy cold of the crypts, like the winter gale shaking the branches of the skeletal trees. “WHATS WITH THE DARKNESS UNDER THE HOOD? I THOUGHT YOU DECIDED TO CHOOSE A SINGULAR FACE FROM NOW ON. “The other Death waved a dismissing gesture with its hand. Even that was nothing but an ever-changing blob of darkness.  
"IT DID NOT WORK OUT. TURNS OUT WHEN THERE IS AROUND A THOUSAND SENTIENT BEINGS WITHIN YOUR AREA, THEY START TO GET CHILDISH OVER IT. “The amorphous death made small quotation mark in the air. “WHY DO YOU LOOK LIKE A HUMAN SKELETON? IS THE STARS FORSAKEN US? WE RODIANS MEAN NOTHING IN THE GRAND SCHEME OF THINGS?! “It lowered its hands and shook his hooded head. “AND THEN COMES THE CRYING, AND THE FLAILING AROUND. HAVE YOU EVER TRIED TO TIE AN ENRAGED HUTT ON THE BACK OF A HOVERBIKE?"  
"I CAN’T SAY I HAVE. “Said Death with absolute honesty. He had no idea what a Hutt was, but he had his own experiences with angry trolls who where less than happy after receiving the sharper edge of a dwarfish war croissant. “HOVERBIKE YOU SAY, WHATS WRONG WITH A HORSE? "The Death with a darkness for a face would have frowned if a bag of clouds could frown. Instead it swirled a little.  
"TRIED IT ONCE. THEY LOOK MIGHTY SILLY IN THE VACUUM OF SPACE, FLAILING AROUND.  
"BINKY MANAGED IT. “Shrugged the Death of the Discworld again. He was the fan of the original style of deaths, a man with a scythe, on a pale horse. It was kind of ironic that while his get up was as traditional as it came, he was most likely the most revolutionary in terms of ideas among the deaths of the multiverse.  
"YOUR HORSE IS OF A RARE TALENT. “Agreed the Death with a swirling cloud for a face. It seemed to notice the small deck on the table. "WELL, I THINK WE ARE ONE OF A MIND ON A DIFFERENT MATTER TOO. “It dug into the inner pocket of its robes and after a bit of searching slid another packet of cards into the table. This one was wrapped in metallic foil, with the word Sabacc written on it.   
"WELL. THIS IS AWKWARD. “Decided the Death of Discworld, inspecting the two sets of playing cards, obviously made for completely different games. “HOW DO YOU SUPPOSE WE DECIDE? “The other Death slowly scratched its non-existent chin.

The door creaked, as it should by all laws of storytelling, and swung open. This time the arrival was a tall death, it was towering even by the standards of the anthropomorphic personifications. It wore a white robe instead of a black one, with flowing golden floral patterns. He had a face, androgynous and beautiful, but pale as moonlight. Its ears were a little bit pointy, just for show, and had white hair flowing down all the way to its waist. The long strands touched the hilt of a wonderfully designed elegant sword, made of a metal, so beautiful and gleaming, it almost gave out its own light. It had a face which was originally perpetually stern, but as soon as it crossed the barrier presented by the door, it contorted into annoyance. It gave out a mighty sigh and trotted towards the Death of the Discworld, and his conversation partner.   
"IT IS GOOD TO SEE YOU DEATH, AND DEATH…" His voice was like an unsheathing of a blade, like a dropped bucket falling into the depth of a cave, and like the swirling of the autumn winds. "HAVENT WE TALKED ABOUT THIS NAMING PROBLEM? “It shook its head a little, clearly thinking about something. "I THINK WE DECIDED ON CODENAMES?"  
"NICKNAMES, I BELIEVE THEY ARE CALLED NICKNAMES, BETWEEN FRIENDS. BUT YES. YOU ARE RING. “Nodded sagely the one with the swirling black mass for a face. “I AM STAR. AND I BELIEVE HE IS DISC." Indicated Star towards Disc with its hand. In absence of fingers it was hard to determine but it might have wanted to point towards him with its thumb.   
"AH YES. NOW I REMEMBER. “The tall Death, sit down cracking its joints. “I HAD A ROUGH WEEK."  
"YOU ALWAYS HAVE. “Noted the Death of the Discworld with a small amount of pity. "DON’T TELL ME ITS THAT MANGO GUY AGAIN. "Rings face contorted again, into the facsimile of a pained smile. It was the equivalent of a rolling laughter from a mortal.  
"MANDOS. BUT I WILL CALL HIM MANGO FROM NOW ON, JUST TO ANNOY HIM. AND YES AND NO, ITS JUST THE GENERAL ORDER OF THINGS. ITS CONFUSING AS HECK. THERE IS MULTIPLE SERIES OF HIGHER SPIRITS I CAN’T TOUCH UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. THEN A RIGHT BUNCH OF REGULAR DOWN TO EARTH MEATBAGS, WHO I ABSOLUTELY HAVE TO DELIVER UPON DEATH TO THE AFORMENTIONED MANGO GUY, HE KEEPS THEM IN A WAITING HALL OR SOMETHING UNTIL THEY DECIDE TO GO BACK. UPON WHICH THEY JUST REINCARNATED. NO DUE PROCESS, OR SOME WARNING, TO PREAPARE TO REAP TRALLALA ELVENKIND THE THIRD, AGAIN, WHEN HE INEVITABELY GETS IMPALED ON A SWORD SINCE HE DECIDED TO GO BACK FOR MORE. "Ranted Ring, its beautiful face now miserable with annoyance." EVEN WORSE, THERE IS THE HUMANS WHOM I HAVE TO KICK OUT FROM THE WORLD INTO ANOTHER ONE, AND THE DWARVES, WHOM I WAS BASICALLY TOLD TO, AND I QUOTE “JUST DEAL WITH THEM". IT’S A CLUSTER FUCK I TELL YOU. “  
"SOUNDS TOUGH. "Agreed the two other deaths around the table. Ring drew quite a short straw when they became existences in different worlds. In most worlds in regards of the subject of ones perishing from life, Death was the absolute deciding factor. There were always a couple of problems and exceptions, mostly regarding of heroes, but in the end, they were quite rare. In Rings world there was a race that was given the choice to decide when they want to die, and another one which could decide whether to die at all. It was chaotic for a Death, to say the least. “WHAT HAPPENED NOW?“ Rings expression turned into a small frown as an answer.  
"IT WAS SOME BEARDED WIZARD GUY. I GO TO THIS MOUNTAIN TOP, IN THE MIDDLE OF A SNOWSTORM, TO PICK TWO SOULS UP. TWO HIGHER SPIRITS TO BE PRECISE, WHICH WAS QUITE EXTRAORDINARY. SO I ARRIVE, I PACK THE SOUL OF AN ENRAGED FIERY BEAST ON MY HORSE, AND THINKING THAT THE HARDER PART OF MY WORK IS DONE, I WALK UP TO THE OLD MAN. BEFORE I COULD EVEN START WITH MY USUAL SPIEL ABOUT PASSING AWAY AND WHATNOT, AN AVATAR OF ILLUVATAR APPEARS, KICKS ME IN THE SHIN AND SHOVES THE SOUL OF THE OLD GUY BACK INTO HIS BODY BEFORE DISAPPEARING WITHOUT A WORD. "Ring was almost fuming now; its mouth twitched a little in annoyance. “I SWEAR I HATE THIS JOB."  
"THINGS LIKE THAT HAPPEN FROM TIME TO TIME. “Said Star in a soothing voice leaning back on its chair a little. “WITH HEROES I MEAN. I THINK ITS JUT ANNOYS YOU MORE BECAUSE OF ALL THAT BUROCRACY. JUST YESTERDAY I WAS ENJOYING A LITTLE READING IN MY HOME, WHEN SOMEBODY KNOCKS ON MY DOOR. LO AND BEHOLD, IT’S THE FORCE. "Here Star stopped a little, thinking. "DID I TELL YOU ABOUT THE FORCE YET?"  
"IS IT THE ONE PUSHING FARMBOYS INTO DANGER IN HOPE OF CREATING A HERO? “Asked the Death of the Discworld. He remembered something about this Force from their last gaming session. Apparently that particular anthropomorphic personification couldn’t decide if it was on the side of the good guys, or not. It just started to give crazy superpowers to everybody it deemed fit to do so. Very unpredictable, at least in the eyes of Disc. "WE HAVE ONE TOO, OR MAYBE EVEN TWO NOW THAT I THINK ABOUT IT."  
"YEAH, THAT’S THE FORCE ALL RIGHT. "Agreed Star, apparently proud that the others remembered. "ANYWAY, IT WANTS ME TO FERRY THIS LITTLE GREEN TOAD BACK TO THE MORTAL WORLD, MIND YOU I ALREADY DONE SO BEFORE, SO HE CAN SET FIRE TO A TREE OR SOMETHING. FORCE OF COURSE REFUSED TO TELL ME WHY, BUT THAT’S JUST THE WAY IT OPERATES. A BIT OF A DICK, BUT HAS GOOD STORIES, SO I HELPED HIM OUT. “Star slowly patted Rings shoulder with its amorphous Smokey hands. "YOU JUST HAVE TO LEARN TO TAKE IT IN STRIDE."   
"WELL I SUPPOSE. “Conceded Ring giving out a small sigh. "ANYWAY, WHAT ARE WE PLAYING? I BELIEVE I HAVE A SMALL PACKET OF UMBARAN CANASTA ON ME IF ITS ALRIGHT WITH YOU. “It took a small pouch of cards from under its white clock and placed it in the table. That was when Ring realized it just made a duo into a trio. It blinked a couple of times. "OH…WELL…"  
"BOLLOCKS. “Helped him out the Death of the Discworld. “I BELIEVE THAT’S THE CORRECT TERMINOLOGY. I GUESS WE OUGHT TO WAIT FOR SOMEBODY ELSE, TO DECIDE AGAIN."   
"WHY DON’T WE PLAY WHAT WE DID THE LAST TIME? “Chanced Star looking around for the container the aforementioned game was housed. It was a card game but apparently the Death of the Discworld decided to haul it around in a big back box. It was necessary, since to correctly play it, one had to use at least six different books. “THE BRIDGE ONE, I BELIEVE THERE WAS SOMETHING ABOUT TURTLES IN IT. "  
"I AM TOLD WE ARE NOT ALLOWED IN THE PUB." Sighed the Death of the Discworld, slowly flicking the pack for playing Cripple Mr. Onion. He would also much rather play Contract Bridge. “SINCE THE LAST TIME WAND GOT ANGRY OWER LOSING AND THREW ONE OF THE BOOKS AGAINST THE LIQOUR CABINET. "  
"WAND REALLY IS A SORE LOSER. “Said Ring shaking its head in disapproval. As if it was waiting for this, small whirlwind swept up from under the pub door, and green flames flickered, just for a moment. With a slight creek, a figure stepped in. 

A tall skeleton, covered in flowing rags and tatters. They looked like an old wizard’s gown left out in the wilderness for decades. The clothes floated behind it as if they were suspended in water, and every step it took made them slither and twirl. From its spine, two sickly grey angel wings sprouted, feathers all withered and dry. It was permanently bent over, its spine arching upwards. "SPEAK OF THE DEVIL. “Said Ring, flicking away a white lock of hair from its face. "HELLO WAND. "The newly arrived Death slowly looked at Ring, bones cracking under pressure.   
"HOWDY. “ It stated, its voice was gravely like a monster creeping trough a rocky road, and hissing, like a killing curse flying through the night. “WAND?"  
"NICKNAMES. WE TALKED ABOUT IT." Nodded slowly the Death of the Discworld. Wand folded his hands like a pouty child, considering its form, it was rather comical.  
"BUT I SAID I WANTED TO BE CALLED THE DEATH OF ALL MAGICAL. OR MAGIC DEATH. OR WIZARD HUNTER. WHY WAND? "It sat down, wings drooping a little in protest.  
"BECAUSE IT HAVE TO BE ONE WORD. AND YOU HAVE ONE ANY WAY. “Said Star, pointing towards the waist of the winged Death. Under its rags a small wooden stick could be seen. It had an unusual patter, with thicker and thinner parts following each other. Wand huffed and hid it under its rags before sitting down.   
"ITS MUCH EASIER TO WALK AROUND WITH THAN A SCYTHE. BY THE WAY HAVE I EVER TOLD YOU ABOUT HOW I CREATED IT? "Asked Wand cracking its bony fingers with a perpetual skeletal smile.   
"ONLY A DOZEN OR SO TIMES. WHICH IS IMPRESSIVE CONSIDERING ITS ONLY THE FOURTH TIME WE GATHERED. “Said Ring with a small smile on its pale face. Wand gave it a damning look, empty eye sockets brimming with indignation.   
"PREPOSTEROUS ACCUSATION. “Wand shook his head, the rags around him flapping a little. “AND REGARDLES, IT IS A GOOD STORY. "  
"I DO BELIEVE YOU WERE A LITTLE BIT HARSH THOUGH. "Chanced the Death of the Discworld, glancing towards with the lights glowing from deep within his eye sockets toward Ring. Star nodded in agreement at his statement.  
"GIVING THEM THOSE ARTIFACTS, KIND OF A DICK MOVE. "Agreed the death, smoky darkness’ swirling under its robes.   
"WELL, THEY ASKED FOR IT. “Wand waved dismissively then shrugged. There was a couple of seconds of silence. After Wand realised that all the other deaths were staring at its skull, it gave out an apologetical sigh. "OH, ALL RIGHT. I KNOW MORTALS SHOULDN’T BE TRUSTED WITH THINGS LIKE THAT. BUT THEY WERE THE FIRST MORTALS WHO MANAGED TO GET THROUGH A NASTY DANGEROUS RIVER, I HAD TO GO BACK TO THAT DAMNED SWAMPY STREAM SO MANY TIMES OVER THE YEARS I STARTED TO LOATHE THE PLACE. THEN HERE CAME THAT THREE GUYS AND BUMM, THERE WAS A BRIDGE. NO MORE EVERYDAY VISITS TO HELP OUT A POOR SCHMUCK’S SOUL FROM THE RUNNY MUD, NO MORE WASHING MY WINGS AFTER EVERY OCCASION. I APPEARED BEFORE THEM, CONGRATULATED AND EVERYTHING, AND WHAT DO THEY SAY? “GEEZ DEATH, NO PROBLEM, CONSIDER IT A THANK YOU FOR YOUR USUAL HARD WORK, HAVE A GOOD EVENING"? HAH, FAT CHANCE. "Ring shook its wings a little to emphasize its words. “THE FIRST THING THEY DID WAS TO ASK FOR SOME RECOMPENSATION. SO, I GAVE THEM WHAT THEY WANTED. - The other deaths around the table scratched their chins, bones, amorphous black shapes under their robes. There was some truth in what Wand talked about. Most people tend to ignore the hard work they put into delivering the souls into their rightful places. Considering Wands attitude, they were most likely the first living mortals he talked to in a couple of centuries. If one’s social interactions are limited to talking to groggy spirits after their death, having to deal with some sassy teenagers from the side of the living on top of that, must have been quite infuriating first experience in regard to non-exhumed talking partners. There was a couple of seconds of awkward silence after that, only interrupted by some polite coughing by Ring. 

 

"OH, BEFORE WE START PLAYING, SHOULD WE ORDER? “Said Star with some newfound social skills.  
"GOOD IDEA. “Stated the Death of the Discworld and raised its hand towards the bar. Suddenly a grey hood materialised, seemingly from thin air. And auditor. After their unsuccessful second coup against Discworld, Azrael decided to punish them. Since their services were still needed, and such their destruction was impossible, they were condemned to a fate worse than non-existence. Aside from their normal duties they were to man the “ Rusty Scythe" as waiters, until all eternity. Truth to be told, they did an excellent job at this capacity. They were always ready and punctual, never watered the alcohol, and made cocktails so precise, they were mixed by number of molecules instead of millilitres.   
"Yes, dear patron? “Asked the Auditor with all the enthusiasm as a sixty four year old tax collector forced to dress as the Soul Cake Duck.   
"I WANT A COCKTAIL, THAT LITTLE PINK ONE. IF I REMEMBER CORRECTLY IT WAS CALLED, ROSE COLOURED KITTEN. “Stated the Death of the Discworld in a deep voice. The auditor dutifully wrote it down on a small clipboard, every movement radiating disdain. "WITH SOME PINAPLE ON A STICK. RING? "  
"I WILL STICK TO MY DWARVEN ALE. CHEEKY LITTLE BUGGERS BUT THEY MAKE GREAT ALCOHOL. “Stated the pale death scratching its perfect nose and flicking a couple of white hair strands away from its eyes.  
"AS FOR ME, I WANT SOME CORELLIAN BRANDY, AND A SHOT OF REACTOR CORE ON THE SIDE. IT KEEPS ME REGULAR. “Said Star rubbing its stomach. As to regular what exactly, nobody dared to ask.   
"WELL THEN, LAST BUT NOT LEAST, I WANT A NICE CUP OF BUTTERBEER. I MIGHT HAVE SOME DRAGON BARREL BRANDY LATER BUT SETTLE FOR THE LIGHTER STUFF FOR NOW. “The Auditor wrote all this down, and made an exaggerated gesture, by placing a big dot at the end. It glared at the deaths for a split second before forcing itself to say.  
"Very good choices dear patrons. It will be served in ten minutes twenty-three seconds, four nanoseconds, twelve attosecond and three Planck time after this sentence is finished. Now. “With that the Auditor disappeared in a puff of otherworldly smoke.   
“SNOBBY BUGGER." Stated Star in a conversational tone. There was no death who liked Auditors. They walked around with an air of superiority, and worst of it, they were so obsessed with their work, they never realised or cared the harm they  
"TRUE. BUT I LIKE THEM THIS WAY BETTER. “Said the Death of the Discworld with a small smile in his voice. "NOW, WHAT SHOULD WE PLAY…" He glanced at Wand expectantly. The winged death perked up.  
"FUNNY YOU MENTION. I HAPPENED TO HAVE SOMETHING ON ME… “Started Wand rummaging under its rags.  
"TELL ME ITS NOT ANOTHER PACK OF CARDS. “Grunted Ring, rubbing its eyes. Perfect white eyelashes fluttered in the dry air.  
"BETTER. “Stated the winged death, and at last, pulled out a small wooden box. It placed it on the table, and flicked it open with a bony finger. It was a miniature chess board. There were the black and white figures on the board already. They were moving and by the looks of it they were shaking their fist at each other, and mouthed obscenities regarding their enemy’s familiar relations. “MAGIC CHESS. "The three other deaths leaned closer to the small box. The figures quieted down and huddled a bit closer to each other.  
"I DON’T WANT TO DISCURAGE YOU WAND BUT…" Started Star diplomatically.  
"I HATE CHESS. “Stated the Death of the Discworld. He would have been more tactful about it, but in his opinion some things were better said clearly.   
"AND IT IS A TWO PLAYER GAME. "Raised Ring another logical problem with using a single chess board with four people.   
"WE COULD TAKE TURNS…" Tried Wand apologetically. This was the first board game it found at the store. It wouldn’t have wanted to impose on the owner anymore, especially because he didn’t stop screaming until Wand left the building. It was hard to shop as a giant winged skeleton, when there are wizards everywhere, many of whom can see through your glamour. "LIKE A TOURNAMENT.  
"I HATE CHESS. “Stated the Death of the Discworld again, just in case if that the others didn’t hear him.   
"BUT IDEA OF TAKING TURNS IS NOT BAD. “Said Star trying to salvage the rapidly worsening mood of its companions. "WE ALL BROUGHT GAMES. WHAT IF WE PLAY A COUPLE OF ROUNDS WITH EACH OF THEM? “The others considered this. It was an excellent idea, actually. They got to experience some new things, and nobody would feel left out at the end of the day.  
"I HATE CHESS. “Said Disc on a final third time, now drawing everyone’s attention. They stared at him for a couple of seconds, until he felt himself uncomfortable. “OH, ALL RIGHT. "Conceded the Death of the Discworld in the face of the majority. "BUT YOU HAVE TO HELP ME WITH THE HORSE. I ALWAYS FORGET HOW TO STEP WITH IT. "


End file.
